


college

by thestarsaregivenonceonly



Category: Timmy Chalamet, Timothée Chalamet - Fandom, tim chalamet
Genre: F/M, timothee blurb, timothee chalamet blurb, timothee chalamet imagine, timothee imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 01:21:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21419842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsaregivenonceonly/pseuds/thestarsaregivenonceonly
Summary: Anonymous asked:Hi! Could you please write an imagine where the reader is in College and Timmy thinks she's sexy when she's studying. He starts distracting her by kissing her neck.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Original Female Character(s), Timothée Chalamet/Reader, timothee chalamet x reader
Kudos: 86





	college

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr same username xx

The first time you saw him was day two of classes, a lush and green afternoon on campus that brought students from all over to sit and study on the beautiful, open grass next to the science building. Your nose in a book, mouthing the words to yourself, finger on your chin as you took in the story, thinking hard. The sun shone on your back, hot and comforting. A large amount of people began to exit the science building and move past you to your right and left, scattering as lectures ended and new ones began. Putting your book down, you carefully placed your supplies into your backpack and stretched, gazing around you and taking it all in.

One thing. If one thing had been different…

It could have rained that day. He could have been running late, you could have been looking the other way. Someone could have blocked your view. You could have stood sooner and moved from his path to perhaps another one, this one single moment (thought you were unaware, of course) having more meaning than you could have ever imagined.

But there he was, cool and casual as a cat, strolling on lanky legs with a large pair of headphones on his head, Kid Cudi blasting so loud you could hear it as he moved past. A small glance at first, he looked aside simply in passing, his eyes a shocking and stunning green that shone in the sun like a gem. A double take, he glanced back again, ignoring a group of ogling girls that just noticed him walking past. One more time, he turned his head as he moved, smiling at you. You and you alone.

It took almost ten seconds before you moved again, scrambling to stand and moving in the same direction as him, somehow strangely praying that he would go to the same destination.

He did.

**

The lecture was almost full, at least one hundred students of all colors, shapes, and sizes mingling about until the professor arrived. You saw him gazing about for a seat, pressing a button on his headphones to silence them. Wanting him to see you and not wanting to be obvious, you moved within his eyesight and turned your head to pretend to look for a seat, eventually settling in the middle of the hall with a pounding heart and screaming pulse.

“Is this seat taken?”

You turned.

Oh, oh my God.

“No!” You nearly squeaked the word, the questioning smirk on his face causing your knees to buckle.

He nodded and sat down in the seat to your immediate left, though the row was still almost empty.

He held a hand out. “Timothée. Tim or Timmy is fine.”

You tentatively shook his hand and introduced yourself, praying that your grip wasn’t to sweaty.

“I saw you outside, what are you reading?” The space between you felt electric, or was that just you?

“The Devil in the White City.”

“For a class?”

“For leisure.”

“What is it about?”

You couldn’t help but smile. He wanted to talk to you, he was actually making conversation.

“It’s a factual account of the Chicago World’s Fair in 1893 and the first seriously studied serial killer in America, Dr. H. H. Holmes. It’s written more like a story, though. I like the way it’s presented.”

He nodded, smiling and watching your mouth as you talked. Oh, your heart was absolutely sprinting.

“Let me know if it’s good when it’s over? I’ll check it out if so.”

“Well I’m only about halfway through, and I love it. I recommend it.”

“I’ll look into it at the library.”

A hush came over the room as the professor entered, striding down the aisle and muttering to herself. You shifted in your seat and found a pen in your bag.

“You can borrow it if you like. As long as you don’t drop the class, and I see you.” Holy. Fuck. When did you get so direct, where did this confidence come from?

“Oh, I’m not dropping.” He chuckled, a secret in the laugh. “Don’t worry.”

The class, which you had feared would drag, somehow flew by. His pen died about halfway through, and you handed him one without saying anything, trying to keep from giggling. He was determined it would work, scribbling frantically across his paper, no doubt worried he would miss something.

“Thank you,” he sighed in resignation when you held the pen out, reaching to take it. His fingers brushed your hand, warm and soft, a spike of energy moving up your arm and then down your entire body. He paused, making eye contact, and you prayed he was thinking the exact same thing.

He was.

**

The first week of classes went smoothly, perhaps more so than you had been anticipating. There was excitement in the air that you breathed, and it made your lungs vibrate every time you thought about Timmy. He sat next to you again on the fourth day of class (you saw him twice a week), and it felt casual and comfortable to talk to him.

“How are you?”

“Tired, how are you?”

“Me too. Did you study any of the notes?”

“Not yet.” You shook your head, face flushing. “I’m a tad overwhelmed from all the new classes.”

He hesitated, biting down on his bottom lip. Your eyes darted there for a brief second, your face now crimson. His mouth was beautiful, and for the umpteenth time you wondered what it would be like to kiss that mouth.

“Do you wanna come to my dorm after class and look over them after this? Unless you have class, that is.” He rushed the last sentence, oh, was he actually nervous?

You nodded quickly. “Sure, I don’t have class.”

His face lit up, and now he was beaming, a gorgeous smile spread across his face. “Great!”

The lecture dragged this time, and you found yourself tapping your foot with anticipation. Only about fifteen minutes in and he leaned over to whisper in your ear. Your breath faltered.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You seem antsy.”

Realizing then that you were tapping both feet, you nodded quickly. “All good.”

He nodded in response and sat back, turning to listen to the professor once again. When it was finally over, you stood quickly, knocking your water bottle onto the floor. The cap was screwed on tightly, thank goodness for small favors. Tim reached down and picked it up, handing it to you.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

The walk to his dorm was beautiful, another sunny day with a waterfall of warmth cascading down your back.

“How is the book?” He made a sudden right turn, and you hurried to keep up with his long legs.

“Very good, I’m almost done. This H.H. Holmes guy is wacky.”

He laughed, bending forward and stopping on the walkway.

“The word you use to describe one of the most prolific serial killers in history is wacky?”

Now you were giggling, moving to walk next to him again. “He is!”

“He sounds more than wacky.”

“Oh, just wait. You’ll find him fascinating. I’m interested to hear what you think about it when you get the chance to read it.”

The dorm loomed over the both of you as you approached, and he scanned his ID card and held the door open for you. You moved past him and walked inside, waiting for him to direct you. He strode across the open space to the elevator, holding the door open for you and pressing the button for the third floor.

“Top floor?”

“Comes with a nice view.”

His dorm room was small, simple, and somewhat sparse, as your own was at the beginning of the semester. It smelled absolutely amazing, and your mind skipped as if it was a broken record. Nervous? Not really. Anxiety, anticipatory anxiety.

“I’m sorry I only have one chair, I’ll sit on the bed.”

“No need, get comfortable at your desk,” you replied, hopping onto his bed and bouncing before he could protest. He laughed, God what a sound, digging through his backpack.

It began in silence, the both of you scanning over what you had written. You tried to concentrate, pushing yourself, but his presence was overwhelming in the best way. Trying to find an excuse, you looked up.

“Hey, come here.”

He stood quickly, almost too quickly, sitting down next to you on the bed. “Yeah?”

“Do you understand this equation?” You understood it perfectly, your mind flashing to Mean Girls.

“Yeah, and I know you do too, I saw you using it,” he laughed again, nudging your side.

You blushed yet again, biting down on your bottom lip hard. Now he was the one to look at your mouth, tilting his head to the side. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck did you want to kiss him.

Do it? Don’t? Too soon? Not soon enough.

He moved first, leaning closer, and without thinking you met him halfway, your mouth pressing lightly against his. He opened his mouth immediately, inhaling, kissing you deeply.

“Is this too-“ His voice was rough.

“No, I have a feeling about you.”

“I have one about you, too.” He kissed down the side of your neck, God, maybe it was too fast, but you only wanted to go faster. 

Fuck it if you got a speeding ticket.


End file.
